Dazed and confused

Drug-fuelled, hard-partying teenagers are hellbent on taking hedonism to new heights. Why? Because they just don’t care. A reformed wild child, tells his story

It's 10am on a Saturday, and I'm standing in the middle of my kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil for my second cup of green tea. Outside, next door's cat has mounted the recycling bin again, and is staring at me with its judgmental glare. It thinks I've become suburban - and it's probably right.

On a Saturday morning two months ago, I'd have been up all night, and music would have been blaring from the living room.

With the blinds drawn, I'd have been using my maxed-out credit card to rack up lines of cocaine or MDMA - maybe even both.

My trendily clad pals and I would still have been roaring drunk, with no intention of hitting the sack any time soon.

But this isn't the loft apartment in east London I shared with my party-loving art-student friends. This is my mother's house in the suburbs, and for me,